


The Last One Standing

by Stariceling



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Blood and Injury, Gen, no plot only death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-16
Updated: 2018-07-16
Packaged: 2019-06-11 10:37:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15313656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stariceling/pseuds/Stariceling
Summary: When Akashi says they are driven to eliminate the others, he means permanently.





	The Last One Standing

**Author's Note:**

> Bonus Round 4 prompt:
> 
> “None of like being lumped together as the Generation of Miracles. We’re driven to eliminate all others.” - Akashi

First blood goes to Akashi even before their paths split. He has to put Murasakibara in his place before it descends into a free-for-all on his watch, but he knows even then. They are too powerful to exist together in this world, let alone in one organization.

They take to violence against each other as easily as anything. Kise walks away from his first altercation with Aomine with shattered ribs. A month later Midorima puts two test shots in Akashi’s back, leaving vivid bruises under his vest.

Akashi knows the escalation will be rapid, but even he underestimates their pace. Before his bruises have healed they are down to four. Aomine corners Murasakibara like a bear in his den and ends up with his windpipe crushed for his trouble.

Now the game is to the death, and it will never be anything less.

Akashi has always been prepared to win that way.

Murasakibara becomes his first target, to show he can more than because of a perceived threat. He practically empties his gun into Murasakibara’s chest with no perceivable result, something he almost didn’t think to plan for.

When not given time to think, Murasakibara always goes for whatever move last served him best. So Akashi makes a small sacrifice and lets hands wrap around his throat. He aims his next shot up through the underside of Murasakibara’s jaw, on through his soft pallette and into his brain. Even dead, it’s a struggle to pry Murasakibara’s hands off so he can breathe again.

Midorima has to come next. Akashi knows the next time his old friend gets a shot at him it will be aiming for his head. He already knows how to look. Even the most elite sniper needs a safe place to aim from. Even for Midorima, who has made it his specialty to pick off a target from any angle, that holds true.

There happens to be someone mirroring him a little too perfectly as he tracks Midorima down. Akashi anticipates that, but he doesn’t anticipate being second. It’s unfamiliar, and quite jarring, not to have fully predicted a situation. He’s ready for someone trying to put a knife in him, of course. He’s not expecting it to be a third party.

He’s not expecting Midorima lying there in throat-cut silence. Shards of brightly-painted glass fan out across the floor, the remains of today’s lucky item.

Akashi doesn’t give Midorima more than a glance. Kise is his last living rival now.

One of his arms is hanging useless, studded with shrapnel, with blood still dripping from his fingertips. Of course Midorima booby-trapped his sniper’s nest, and it seems Kise didn’t get in unscathed.

It might be fitting, if petty, to slit Kise’s throat, but Akashi doesn’t have energy to waste on that. Even with one arm, Kise can throw out almost anything. That will never be enough when Akashi knows the random roulette isn’t truly random.

Three moves in he hits Kise between steps, making him fall, and takes the upper hand. His own gun feels more efficient than anything from Kise’s arsenal. There’s no waiting for someone to stop breathing or bleed out. The end is decisive, absolute.

When he looks back at Midorima one last time he feels almost angry. He hadn’t realized that in every plan he included the moment they faced each other. If he had only made this his priority a little sooner.

It doesn’t matter now. Tournament-style they have decided the final victor. Akashi holsters his gun and feels something jab his finger sharply enough to draw a bead of blood. He’ll have to fix it when he gets back, even if there’s no telling when he’ll need it again.

He feels a strange sense of ennui, to have lost the only people who could challenge him. He feels listless, almost numb.

Then the taste of blood rolls up under his tongue and he realizes the feeling has nothing to do with angst a second before he has to fall against the wall to avoid hitting the floor. It doesn’t buy him much. It’s only a slow descent from there. Even if he can get a hand on his gun, his arm is already too numb to lift, and all of the bullets are in Kise anyway.

There have got to be twenty weapons in this room (mostly thanks to Kise), and he can’t seem to do anything with that.

Akashi finds himself in the disgusting position of having to look up his killer. Something in him, still grabbing for sense says _outside shoes, and she was always so polite_. He doesn’t seem to be in a condition that she needs to run, but he appreciates her caution.

“Didn’t expect you to resort to poison.”

Momoi stands with both feet carefully grounded. She won’t kneel for him. “You think this is a game. I wanted results. You shouldn’t have touched Dai-chan.”

Akashi doesn’t try to claim he had nothing to do with that. It would demean both of them. He’s more interested to know how she got a poisoned needle in his effects, but he doesn’t want to have to ask.

He has to swallow blood so he can talk. “So I think it’s a game?” He never even thought of her as a player. She was only one part of a team, so she was a piece on the board. She was barely a danger when Aomine only halfway listed to her.

“I don’t really care what you think.”

Akashi can’t swallow anymore and spits blood, feeling like he’s drowning. She should care what he thinks. He brought them all this far.

She’s not cold and unshakable watching him die, but she’s the one there watching and he’s the one here dying. Akashi doesn’t know what she’s thinking, but this time she must be the one who’s right.


End file.
